


All that is gold...does glitter

by Aaymeirah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And injured, Destruction of Dale, Dragons, Dwarves, Gen, Horror, Humans, POV Smaug, People get burned alive, Sack of Erebor, The wholesale slaughter of a population, Treasure Hoards, and crushed, and killed, and pillaged, but the reader is a step removed, for Smaug is a sadistic and greedy bastard of a dragon and he doesn't care about that, gold - Freeform, warnings for safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaymeirah/pseuds/Aaymeirah
Summary: A short story offering Smaug's POV as he sacks Dale and drives the Dwarves-under-the-Mountain out of Erebor to claim the land and the treasure it offers for his own august enjoyment.Ft. sarcastic asides courtesy of your local pillaging dragon. (It's nothing personal.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4
Collections: Lord of the Rings Secret Santa 2019





	1. Dale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rokosourobouros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokosourobouros/gifts).



> I fully admit to borrowing elements and timelines to put this story together from the Hobbit movies, the book, the internet and my general recall of events in Tolkien's legendarium, so apologies in advance for any canonical inconsistencies. (But what even is canon when it comes to Prof. Tolkien's works and their adaptations anyways?)

All that gold. Shiny, brilliant gold. Treasure, littered carelessly in the pockets of puny mortals. Going about their lives as if they mattered. (They don’t) 

Smaug knew that in Erebor and its surrounding lands, there were goblets, coins of pure gold, silver and copper (Still shiny). There were gilded mirrors and jewelry. New crafted ornaments from the woodland elves and mithril armor coming from those stinking Dwarves in the Lonely Mountain. (Wasters of treasure) 

These fools with their ridiculous fences and fortified ports. They were trapped on their island, would be trapped in their twisty caves. Nothing was a match for him, Smaug the undefeatable! 

He curled closer around a large jut of rock high and far away from the men of Dale and the Dwarves-under-the-Mountain, watching for those lovely glints of gold, (Only a magnificent dragon such as himself could see so far) biding his time. 

(He could be patient. For a while.) 

Months passed, during which Smaug periodically watched the caravans of precious gems exit from the Mountain, saw the busiest times of day for men to exchange gold. (Horrific practice, gold was meant to be taken and hoarded, not given away for plants that were soon consumed). The gold called him by singing it’s magnificent song of hypnotic shininess and power. It took all of his considerable will to not fly and burn the place to the ground before the time was right. For the dwarven king grew greedy, amassing such wealth that the more Smaug delayed, the more Smaug would gain.

His plan was simple, fitting for a (Powerful and direct) firedrake such as himself; circle the sky above the town, let panic and flight set it, then burn it all to the ground. The Dwarves would be distracted, and while they were watching the town burn, hot enough that the water itself flamed, he would burn their holes. Smoke them out like the rats those rock dwellers were. 

Smaug launched himself into the air, winging through the clouds as he stoked the fire ever simmering inside of him. His long tongue weaved in and out of many rows of teeth, popping bones and bits of fur out from between them. (Killing was always better enjoyed with a clean palette) 

Smoke from chimneys rose and rested in a hazy cloud far below him.

He pursed his mouth and puffed, a small breath of hot air spiraling forcefully downwards and making a perfect circle that let a shaft of sunlight briefly shine through. That wouldn’t do. Smaug positioned himself in front of the sun, flapping his wings to hold himself in place as his shadow covered the central marketplace. He waited for the mortals to look up.

Screams. “Dragon!” Running. “To arms” Shrieks. “Watch out!” (A fitting tribute to his tremendous presence. Cower mortals!) 

It was time, his lips pulled back in a devilish smile to shows rows of stained teeth. 

“Fear me.”

Fire swirled up from his belly, tickling and pleasantly warming his throat. He freed it, watched it catch the wooden roofs. Lick the beams and spread its destructive beauty. 

Smaug spiraled down to see the fleeing mortals. A small one (hatchling?) craned her neck up at him, he curved around mid-air in a tight loop to hang above the human hatchling.

“Boo.”

The fire engulfed her, she screamed and fell to the ground, writing as her skin peeled off to expose dried white bones. A cloth toy fell abandoned on the ground. 

More. 

A relatively large human compared to the human hatchling shook a sword at him. (Shaking swords does nothing, you have to poke something with them. Idiot.) Smaug laughed, deep within his throat and pierced the human’s head with a talon so that it burst like a recently killed donkey corpse, viscera, and blood splattering every which way. (He wasn’t hungry enough to eat a human)

Smaug looked up to see a phalanx of angry men advancing and angling pickaxes, swords, and spears towards him. 

“Nothing can stop me!” Smaug roared and once more let loose a gout of flame that immediately incinerated the would-be-dragon slayers.

(He was just warming up.) 

Dale-town was ridiculously easy to burn. (Remember, it was painful knowing some gold had melted, but this wasn’t the real prize) 

Humans ran screaming through the streets.

Small ones stood alone, shivering, those he passed. (Not worth the hot air)

He had saved the large town hall for last. It had a large lookout affording a view that pitiful human eyes judged a distance that would give them a warning of impending danger. (Look where they are now, ha!)

Archers lined the sides, longbows nocked and ready to shoot at him. Besides thieves, archers were his most hated type of humans. (Pesky sticks destroyed the perfect sheen of his scales) 

“Now!”

The archers released their arrows as one, Smaug laughed and let the sticks hit the underside of his wings where they bounced off the impervious scales. Time to burn this tower, watch it fall and crush the archers. Maybe he would be able to see one of them get impaled by their bow. (Irony, how he loved it)

A single man peeled off from the archers and ran below. (Coward.) He reappeared, lugging a crossbow and twisted cast-iron quarrels with him. (Fine, a fool.) Smaug caught an updraft from a nearby house that caved in, accompanied by two humans jumping out of a window clutching each other, (only he could fly) and rose higher into the air. 

The first arrow went far, not even reaching a wickedly clawed foot. 

“No one can beat me!”

The second glanced a spike at the tip of his left wing. (No more time to toy around. Shame.) As he opened his maw to end the human and move on to the real pest delving between him and the gold, the foolish archer shot an arrow that went much to straight.

An arrow that had too much force. 

It hit his underbelly, enough to knock his pattern of wing -beats off for a brief, yet all too long a moment. (Oh no he didn’t) Smaug growled and knocked the quarrel out of his underbelly. To his horror, a single, beautiful scale came off too, falling into the ruins of Dale. 

They were in for it now.

The rage came and overpowered him, no more toying, no more fun. He was Smaug the impermeable, Smaug the untouchable! 

He incinerated that tower, those pesky archers and the foolish one who had dared to mar his skin. 

“I am fire.” 

Dale was destroyed, and he would scavenge it later. Now to claim the lives of the dwarves and their treasure as his own. 

“I am death.”


	2. Erebor

Dwarves, so secure in their mountain halls. (They weren't) Smaug flew swiftly towards the giant, towering statue of an (ugly) dwarf king that guarded the above-ground entrance. Leaning over the low balustrades, warriors watched, braced in horror as he approached. 

A pillar of flame incinerated a few, and others managed to duck behind stone pillars. Smaug snorted in contempt and ever so lightly, flicked his tail against the base of one of the pillars providing cover. It came tumbling down, those stones the Dwarves loved so much crushing the miserable life out of them. 

This was fun.

Smaug decided to spend some time destroying the front entrance, it wasn’t like the Dwarves were archers (and even those hadn’t killed him!), so how could they possibly stop him?

Crash. (Rock) Boom. (Statue). Clang (Armor)

The next order of business was to smoke them out. His watching had shown him that holes were honeycombing the mountain proper and it’s six surrounding protrusions, impossible to guard them all, but block them? Oh yes. 

“Hello.”

He burnt the angry dwarves to a crisp at the first small opening he found, hidden behind a few scraggly trees (well, used to be hidden). 

There were times when he made rocks fall, others where he filed narrow cave tunnels with flame so that there was nowhere to run. Sometimes he engaged the dwarven defenders personally.

His rampage continued along this line till the second sunset. Some of the Dwarves put up more of a fight than others. (Handheld crossbows, spears, traps.) Persistent pests. Smaug flew up as the sun set behind the horizon, making sure he was silhouetted so the conquered mortals could marvel at his destructive magnificence. Dale was no more, he took a vindictive pleasure in seeing no movement save for the still-burning fires, thick smoke and flaky ash that floated on top of the water. He breathed in the delicious smell of charred flesh and burning wood. (Intoxicating) The foliage and decorations around Erebor were crumpled, broken and interspersed with bodies of the dead would-be defenders. He sensed no movement. (Lonely mountain in more ways than one). Smaug roared with pleasure, loud and victorious. They had never stood a chance against him! 

He folded his wings, went into a downward spiral and leveled at the last moment to land in the main entrance, gate open and broken. (Never attempt to rope a dragon) 

Claws (annoyingly dull) clicked against the stone walkway, easily wide enough to fit two dragons side by side.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” (Dwarves? Gold? Both!)

Two Dwarves came running at him, screaming puny battle cries. He let them bounce their axes off of his (impenetrable) scales and while bouncing back from the force of metal hitting an unmoving object, he ripped their heads from their torsos. Spitting out leather and cloth and gristle, Smaug blew fire ahead of him so that it filled the corridor. (One way to clear a mouth)

As much fun as it was destroying these grubby earth-delvers, he was eager to get to the main hoard. That cavern where the Dwarven King kept all those jewels and gold and treasures and more gold. Not to mention the fabled Arkenstone that Smaug had learned of from ever louder whispers on the wind. He lumbered through the halls, wantonly killing, not bothering to toy with or show off before eliminating his prey. 

“Retreat!”

“This way!”

“Just leave it!”

The occasional shouts echoed throughout the halls, stained red from blood and black from char. As the ways got narrower the further he went down, the more he had to curl his wings in and crouch. (What did you expect?) 

Carved stone framed a large arch behind which Smaug’s sharp eyes caught a familiar glow. 

Gold!

He increased his pace as much as the walls would allow and burst through the arch to see the hoard. 

(The Hoard!) 

Coins, haphazard mounds of them. Smaug imagined rolling around in them, feeling their rigid edges scratch his scales, cleanse the grit of the dirty work involved in stealing a gold hoard. Jewels. From where he stood, he could see emeralds set in silver necklaces, many-faceted sapphires deep blue like the waters around Dale as the spilled blood seeped into the land. Diamonds shone clearly even in the uneven light cast by the few remaining torches in the abandoned chamber. There were goblets and bowls of pure gold. Weapons embedded with precious stones, yet still practical for mortals to cut each other with. 

Smaug happily glided down into a large mound, coins and loose ropes of beads flying into the air, settling on his wings, catching over the scales on his back. He rolled over, felt the (beautiful) gold seep into his bones. 

All that work was (so very) worth it. 

His eyes roamed, already beginning to catalog his new hoard that would only grow with time as he collected the abandoned wealth scattered around the wasteland he had created. Soon, Smaug noticed that there was silver light among the assorted treasure, in contrast with its overall gentle golden glow. Oddly enough, it’s light didn’t come from the torches, the only light sources in this hall. Smaug slithered over to investigate. 

He pawed through assorted objects to see what had caught his attention.

Previously heavy-lidded eyes widened as Smaug took in the jewel he had uncovered. Crystal clear, shaped and perfect. It glowed with a soft light of its own. 

The Arkenstone. 

To be fair, it was pretty, but it didn’t rival the gold. Smaug cast his mind back through the morass of knowledge and memories collected. 

(Ah yes) The dwarves valued it over all their gold, all their other jewels. A low rumble resounded through the cavern, the disturbing sound of a dragon laughing. 

His nostrils flared as he scented a draft of air and the scent of Dwarf which he had (unfortunately) recently become intimately familiar with. 

“Who dares to enter?”

His voice seemed to startle the intruder as a small slide of gold echoed loudly against the stone walls. 

“I- I need the Arkenstone” The Dwarf, bloody and desperate came into view. 

(Boring) “No, you don’t.” Smaug burnt the would-be-burglar to ashes. He scanned the walls for the entrance that Dwarf had used. High up, accessed by a winding carved walkway, a secret door was cracked open. That was not good. He reared on his high legs, clawed feet temporarily scrambling for purchase as he destroyed the walkway and blocked the door. He hadn’t seen the dwarf king or his retinue, they must have escaped through here. 

Fools! when they came back, and Smaug had no doubt they would, he would be ready. With fire, with force, with his sterling sharp wit; he would gather the treasure, dominate the land and imbue this hoard with his own malevolent will.   
The temporarily satiated dragon smiled and burrowed into his newfound treasure.

Dale was destroyed.

The Dwarves had fled.

A whole kingdom dead by his claw! 

What a wonderful time to be a dragon. He fell asleep with a claw placed protectively over the Arkenstone, and one eye left open for threats.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this gift will be enjoyed. While my writing took me to a time in Middle-Earth before the events of the Lord of the Rings, it does feature horror content and focuses on Smaug, a character in the request tags. 
> 
> Cheers!


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